I feel like a big sack of blah at the moment. A big, flavourless sack of gruel. Millet, even. Porridge made with water and no salt.
Work has been hectic and yet banal, I'm running on two hours' sleep, I've somehow cut the roof of my mouth so that eating spicy or scratchy food hurts, I'm looking at words and they don't seem to be spelled right. Maybe I don't feel like I am porridge. Maybe I feel like I'm wading through it. Maybe my metaphors are as pedestrian as... as... a pedestrian.
Yeah. I think I'm going to quit while I'm behind.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment